In the End, Pie
by Jetainia
Summary: Tea is what no British meal is complete without, perhaps pie is the American equivalent.


There wasn't much that could entertain the Master of Death more than someone hopelessly trying to outrun him and that which he was Master of. It was honestly quite hilarious as whatever idiot tried more and more outlandish theories and rituals so that they could finally be the one to defeat Death. If he was honest, there were a few people that made the Master of Death crack up laughing with delight whenever they died, that he kept bringing them back just so they could die again.

It had been many millennia since he would have felt ashamed or weird about finding hilarity in the death of others. When he used to see idiots try and become immortal, he would think of the first person he had known who had tried that. He had stopped that idiot before he had become the Master of Death and knew just how annoying and amusing Tom Riddle had been.

Now he had found another constant source of amusement. Two brothers who had the tendency to die quite often and then go to extreme lengths to get the other revived. Their souls had been marked by his symbol, letting all those they interacted with know that they had caught the attention of the Master of Death. As such, none of the demons, angels or reapers would mess with the souls more than they were allowed.

Of course, the two brothers were unaware of their status as favoured ones of the Master of Death. The way they were revived changed all the time. Sometimes, he would let a demon return the soul to the body, sometimes an angel and sometimes it would just be him wanting to see what would happen this time.

They were often quite hilarious, getting all emotional when one or the other came back from the restful death they had been granted while the Master pondered on his next course of action. It would seem as though they were about to find out they had a sponsor though, one of the angels was ignoring his warning and preparing to tell the two brothers.

The angel in question had gained his own free will after his time on Earth while he had been assigned to watch over the two brothers by Heaven. Apparently, his brothers were quite good at corrupting those they were near. Even one of the demons had started helping them out once in a while. Though Crowley always had been a bit of a weird one. The Master blamed it on mother issues from when he had been human. It didn't help that mummy dear was still about either.

"You are marked." The angel was saying as the two brothers looked at him expectantly.

"Marked?" the younger one asked, curious and glancing towards the elder's arm. "I know Dean's marked by you but what mark do I have?"

"This is a stronger mark, a claim. Death has claimed you as its own."

"Wait, hold on," Dean interrupted. "Death, as in the Horseman Death? That we're trying to get a ring from?"

Castiel inclined his head, "Yes, in a way. There is a Master of Death and it is he who has laid claim to you."

"Okay, but why would this Master of Death want to claim us? Death hates us because we keep coming back!"

"No. It is because of your claim that you are able to return. You are claimed for the Master's own amusement. He gains some happiness watching beings run from death, it seems."

The Master chose that time to reveal he was listening in, "You know, I really do. You never appreciate how great someone trying to run away from the inevitable is until you yourself are that inevitable."

At once, the two brothers had guns out and pointing to where the voice had come from. Standing in the corner of the motel room they were currently holed up in was a young man looking no more than twenty years of age. He wore a silvery cloak with a hood that was currently down and had unruly black hair. His eyes were bright green and he smirked mischievously when he saw he had their attention.

"Hey boys, having fun?"

"Who are you?" Dean growled but the Master ignored him.

Instead he turned to Castiel, "What has gotten into you, angel? Did you not read my note?"

The angel's wings lifted slightly in a shrug unseen by the two humans in the room. "I saw it, I thought that the situation called for them to know they are protected."

The Master hummed in thought, "Perhaps. What is this situation that you deem so dire as to ignore my warning?"

"The apocalypse."

"Oh?" Both eyebrows rose on the Master's face. "Is that finally happening, then?"

"Yes."

Sam stepped in between the two beings, facing the intruder with his back to Castiel. "Look, I don't know what's going on here, but who are you?"

"I am the Master of Death, Samuel William Winchester."

"How do you know his name?" Dean stepped in front of his brother with his gun levelled at the stranger who called himself a master of death.

The stranger smiled at him slightly, "I know everyone's name, Dean Henry Winchester. It's part of who I am."

"Who are you?"

"He is the Master of Death, as he has said, Dean."

Without looking back at the angel, Dean stated, "That doesn't tell us anything, Cas."

"Well then you clearly do not have a great grasp on the English language. My title is what it suggests. I am the Master of Death. However, if it makes you happier, you can call me Harry."

"Harry?" Dean's voice was confused and slightly condescending.

"Yes, it was my name before I took up my role. Is there something wrong with it?"

" _Harry_?"

" _Dean_?" Harry replied in the same disbelieving tone. There was a reason he watched his favourites from afar instead of interacting with them. They grew more annoying then amusing in such a short span of time. Sighing, he looked past the brothers to see the angel and addressed said angel, "Do your brothers realise that their claim has been made null and void by me?"

"Our Father has said it will happen, thus it will happen."

Harry groaned and flopped into a conjured chair behind him. "This is why it is never a good idea to entrust the children with things before going off on holiday. It never works out."

With a clap of his hands, the motel room was suddenly transformed into a rather fancy looking board meeting room. The two brothers found themselves sitting at one end with Castiel and Harry sitting on opposite sides in the middle of the long table. Dean's fingers instinctively tightened around his gun only to find he was now holding a plastic replica. Sam, noticing this, examined the room they were in more intently.

"What is this?" Dean asked Harry, unable to move from his sitting position but perfectly able to wave around his plastic gun.

Harry smiled benignly at him, "A meeting, of course." There was a flutter of wings and two angels appeared in the room. The brothers knew both of them; Lucifer and Zachariah. Harry frowned in disapproval at Zachariah, "I did not call _you_."

Zachariah sneered, "Michael does not answer to calls from Earth."

"I think you'll find he does. Shoo." A wave of his hand had Zachariah forcibly removed from his vessel and a snap of his fingers brought another lot of angelic grace into the now-empty vessel. "Hello, Michael, Lucifer. So nice of you to join us."

The two angels stared at the diminutive figure sitting halfway down the table they found themselves at an end of. "You have no right to interfere in this," Michael stated coldly and Harry's eyes narrowed.

"I have every right, Michael. These two humans are mine, not yours."

Lucifer spoke up then, "Samuel Winchester is my true vessel. He is _mine_."

" _Children_ ," the Master breathed out, pinching his nose, "always wanting what they cannot have. And all because Daddy promised them it was theirs. What you fail to realise, _darlings_ , is that I am far older than your father and he has no right to promise you that which I have laid a claim to."

"It was our Father who created this Earth and the humans that live on it!"

Harry rose an unimpressed eyebrow at Michael's outburst. "And who do you think made it so that your father's tinkering ended up relatively stable, instead of blowing up like the last few times he tried to do the same thing? You cannot have an unchanging state of being, something your father has still not managed to grasp."

"You dare talk about our Father this way?" Lucifer's voice was cold as he glared at the Master. The Master just scoffed.

"Your father is as much a young child as you two are. Young children do not gain the respect of their elders by acting like spoiled brats."

"Who are you to call our Father a spoiled brat? You clearly have power, your removal of the pest Zachariah is clear enough of that, as well as your placement of Michael within an unknowing host."

Harry quirked an eyebrow at Lucifer, "I'm hurt Luci. Do you not remember all the warnings your father gave you about me? About _messing around with what is mine_?"

The presence that had been silently simmering in the background of the room suddenly flooded the senses of all those present. There was an overwhelming sadness and peace and _possession_ that took over everything else and the five other beings in the room all shuddered.

"Lord of Death." Michael stated, awed.

"I prefer Master to Lord, but yes, that is me. Do you now realise just how much trouble you're in, _darlings_?"

It would seem they did realise that they had royally angered a greater being than themselves as they both immediately bowed their heads and asked for forgiveness. The Master grinned at them, quite happy to see the two upstarts realise that their being pompous was not always a good thing. They were not the highest beings out there apart from their Father and his sister. He waved a hand negligently, "It is not entirely your fault. I told your father to teach all his creations about my mark and he apparently failed with you two.

"How is it that a common seraph is able to see what two archangels are not? It is, after all, he who brought this to my attention when he informed those under my claim about the mark that brands them both."

Castiel was given identical glares by his older brothers and his wings shifted uncomfortably. Harry's gaze lingered on Castiel thoughtfully for a moment before he grinned and _pushed_ his will into the angel. The four with the ability to see such things saw a dark energy pulsate towards Castiel's host before it sank into the angel's grace. The seraph was now marked, just as the two Winchester's were.

Harry nodded in satisfaction, "That should annoy your father quite a bit, I imagine. And I do quite like you, little angel. Free will is not easily obtained and yet here you are, completely free from the wishes of your father and brothers. I must say, well done."

He turned his attention back to the archangels, "As for you two, I think your father deserves a visit, don't you? Maybe he'll figure out how to take responsibility for those he makes when he finds himself trapped with two children."

With that said, Michael and Lucifer disappeared leaving behind a rather gleeful Master of Death, a slightly scared seraph and two very confused and also slightly scared humans. Harry turned to face the humans and tutted at their expressions, "What's with the faces, boys? I've just stopped the apocalypse for you."

"You…you did?" Sam's voice was full of hope as he stared at Harry.

"Yes, you don't need to worry about those two darlings trying to take you as their vessels. I think this calls for a celebration, don't you? Any requests?"

Still slightly out of it from the scene that had just played out in front of him, Dean all but begged, "Pie?"

Harry chuckled at the desperate need for comfort food on his claimed's face. "Of course."

He had a responsibility to look after those he claimed as his own, after all. What kind of a person denied another being that which would aid them immensely? He was familiar with how the knowledge of being claimed by Death unsettled those with a mortal lifespan, he had felt it himself at one point.

Pie was such a simple request that it was easy to accommodate. Though he did also conjure a rather large pot of tea in the centre of the table. No celebration was complete without tea, his almost forgotten British roots reminded him. Perhaps, he thought, looking at the expressions on the faces of the brothers, an American celebration was not complete without some sort of pie.

It was something he would consider, anyway.

* * *

Some years later, after yet another young upstart decided to be an idiot and try to run from Death, the Master of Death returned to his home with a long sigh. This idiot hadn't been nearly as amusing as some of the others and had instead crossed the border into annoying territory. He collapsed into the single chair with its small table next to it and groaned as his body relaxed.

Waving a hand absently, a steaming tea cup appeared on the side table accompanied by a slice of pie. The perfect snack after a long day's work.


End file.
